


No shit, Sherlock

by justahufflepuff



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ableism, Casual Sex, Everyone Is Gay, M/M, fuck buddies but with Feelings, muggle references drive purebloods insane, this could probably be a chuck tingle book
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 00:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13986258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justahufflepuff/pseuds/justahufflepuff
Summary: Amycus considers himself a smart person. Smarter than most, surely. Intuitive. How it's taken him six years to notice that Ashton McCallum, the  boy he's been riling up for a good anger fuck in the nearest supply closet for years now, can't hear a single goddamn thing is really beyond him.





	No shit, Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zimakvet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimakvet/gifts).



> So I promised my friend Winter some fics for their birthday. Their birthday was weeks ago. I am a horrible friend. But at least I got to it eventually, right?  
> I'm sorry, Winter. I hope I did your trashcan conspiracy boy justice.

The first time Amycus notices, he’s in a crowded hallway. 

He’s the only member of the dorm besides Theo and Damocles actually going to History of Magic; which is to say, Lucius and Rodolphus have decided to skip; which is to say, Amycus will have no one to sit with; which is to say, he plans on spending the whole hour goading Ashton McCallum into fucking him senseless in a broom cupboard after class. It’s a very good plan, really, detailed and well-thought out. Rodolphus would admire his foresight. So he’s a little preoccupied with thoughts of how exactly to push the other boy’s buttons when it happens.

Someone calls McCallum’s name from a few feet behind him. It catches Amycus’s ear because he’s got McCallum on the mind anyways, so he’s a good number of paces behind them both. But Ashton doesn’t turn. 

There’s no way he didn’t hear that. The younger student could reach out and touch Ashton if he leans forward.

The students calls Ashton again, louder this time, and Ashton doesn’t even flinch. Either he’s ignoring them on purpose (Am wouldn’t put it past him the little fucking prick) or somehow, he just hasn’t heard. Not like that like possibility makes any sense.

He obsesses over it for the entire fucking class. Theo, as fucking always, takes meticulous notes (it could be relevant to a case one day, Amycus, stop giving me that look) and lets him stare holes into Ashton’s head. Damocles, however, has different plans and halfway through puzzling out what the ever living fuck that thing in the hallway was he leans over and tells Amycus he’s got shit taste in knives. Then, well, Amycus can’t let that stand he just can’t and Ashton’s weirdass behavior gets pushed to the back of his mind.

The second time he notices, they’re alone.

They don’t spend much of their time alone talking and Ashton has always had this annoying habit of ignoring almost everything that comes out of Amycus’s mouth anyways, so he almost misses it.

Ashton has his mouth on Amycus’s shoulder and his teeth in his skin and Amycus is saying (moaning, gasping) Ashton’s name like it’s a fucking prayer, and—

“Ash, Merlin fuck, _Ash, please_ —“

It takes a few good seconds of Ashton not reacting as Amycus blabbers the nickname and dozens of other stupidly embarrassing things before Am remembers that they don’t do nicknames. They do each other certainly but not with affection. That’s the whole shtick. Nicknames get you punched or left high and dry.

But Ashton doesn’t even notice.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t pull out and remind Am this isn’t how it works, doesn’t even make some snarky dipshit comment about not knowing Slytherins could show more than one emotion at once. He just keeps destroying Amycus’s composure one thrust at a time.

Am opens his mouth to mention it but then Ashton snaps his hips and bites down hard enough to draw blood and Am’s vision goes white with pleasure, all thoughts other than ‘harder, more, faster, again’ driven straight out of his mind.

The third time puts all the pieces together.

It’s a moment he’s certain he’s not meant to see, because he’s not even supposed to be lurking around this part of the castle right now. But he’s fucking hungry and the House Elves never give a shit about his curfew, so yeah he’s standing in an empty hallway trying to remember exactly what pear to tickle on the stupid goddamn portrait when something catches in his peripheral vision. 

Text, floating in the air. 

Excellent it’s that stupid mute bitch. Maybe she’ll give him an excuse to break more fingers only… the text spells out Ashton’s name. Am’s not exactly curious by nature but he can’t help himself as he folds into the thin shadows and hopes they won’t notice him. He’s never really given a shit how McCallum acts around people he likes because it was always clear Am didn’t make (nor did he want to make) that list. After the other night though, maybe… 

Am reads the words as the scrawl themselves across the air, calling for Ashton to wait up just as the boy turns the corner and enters Am’s view. He watches as Ash scans the letters in front of him before twisting back to face the staircase. He loses sight of what happens, can’t make sense of the silence as the mute girl whose name he never cared to remember jogs to join Ashton. A conversation is obviously taking place somehow, but the words in the air don’t come back and neither of them have said a word.

By the time Amycus can see both of them clearly enough to make anything out he’s thoroughly confused. He’s heard Ashton laugh and the girl scoff but nothing else. Then he catches sight of their hands, moving in patterns and gestures he doesn’t understand but they clearly do; watches as they pause to see what the other does or gesture over each other as if- almost as if they’re talking.

They’re talking in hand movements and gestures and Ashton looks more at ease than Amycus has ever seen him with anyone. McCallum doesn’t even look this relaxed post-sex (Amycus gives himself a moment or five to offended on behalf of his sexual prowess), as if this is the most natural thing in the world, as if he does this all the time and--- oh. 

Oh.

Two weeks later Amycus storms through the library like a man on a goddamn mission, seeking his fuck buddy out with determined purpose. Everyone else knows enough to know to keep the fuck out of his way when he’s got this look in his eye, least someone ‘accidentally’ catches on fire again, so it takes less time than anticipated. He hasn’t had quite the time necessary to work up his righteous indignation at getting not-exactly lied to by the time he slams a book down in front of Ashton’s shit. 

Now he knows it’s surprise at the sudden presence and not at the noise that makes McCallum jump.

Now he knows that McCallum hasn’t heard his very dramatic entrance (one Lucius would’ve approved of, surely) because now he knows that McCallum can’t hear anything at all.

“You’re deaf.” He states once Ashton’s eyes are on him.

Ashton raises one very unimpressed eyebrow.

Amycus resists the dueling urges to shake him or kiss him senseless. That eyebrow goddamn does things to him, Ashton knows this. He has goddamn horrible taste in men.

“Hello, Carrow.”

“You’re. Deaf.” Amycus repeats as he does his best to glare Ashton McCallum into making any sort of sense. How the fuck had it taken him so long to figure this out? Why the fuck hadn’t he noticed earlier? 

“No shit, Sherlock.” Ashton looks back down to his work, completely unperturbed. 

Amycus just barely fights back the pout threatening to take over the scowl as he yanks Ashton’s chin up so the boy can see him when he speaks. “That’s not fucking fair you know I have no idea who that is.”

“He’s a career criminal I can’t believe you’ve never heard of him.”

“Last time you said he was something called a pilot. Not like you explained what that was either.”

“They fly.”

“Bullshit. Muggles can’t fly.”

“Shows what you know.”

“We’re off topic!”

“Your topic was boring.” With a soft jerk of his head Ashton pulls his face out of Amycus’s grasp. He looks back down at his paper. “Go away or start talking about something interesting, like how the Queen’s a lizard person.”

Growling Amycus does the very logical thing and sits on top of the book he’d slammed down, forcing his knees right into Ashton’s sightline. 

Ashton pushes him off the table. 

Really, Amycus should’ve expected that. 

Amycus kicks Ashton’s chair out from under him, sending the other boy toppling down on top of him. He grabs his arms and holds him there before Ash can roll off him and away. It’s a tight grip. Wrestling is the only Muggle thing Am values. He knows how to hold a struggling body. Really, Ashton should’ve expected this. 

“You’re deaf.” He repeats a third time once he’s certain his ...not friend can see his lips. 

“The Queen of England is a lizard person.”

“Yeah, okay.” Amycus accepts this fact easily. “You can’t hear.”

“Wow this is brand new information I’m totally learning for the first time right now.”

“How do you take notes?” Amycus plows right over the snark. 

“Carefully.”

Amycus realizes something and frowns. “When I distract you, you really do lose track of the whole lesson.”

“Holy shit, another totally new revelation I’m blown away hold me oh wait you already are.” 

“Would it actually kill you not to be asshole for five goddamn seconds?”

“Would it actually kill you to not tell me shit I already know?”

“I’m trying to understand, here.” Amycus complains, his grip loosening. 

Ashton stills. 

“So, you read lips.” Amycus says and he enjoys the sight of Ashton slightly cross-eyed working to read his lips this close up, revels in the way eyes trace the movements of his mouth, wonders for a quick and impossibly maddening second if he could get away with kissing Ashton. 

“Yeah.” 

“And you can ... you can talk with your hands. With that-” he falters slightly because the only fight that had ever come close to ending this... arrangement happened over Amycus breaking the blonde Hufflepuff’s fingers one by one. “With Whatsherface.”

“With Annie.” Ashton places emphasis on the name, as if that would make Amycus remember it. “It’s called sign language, look it up.”

He will. Even though he hates reading, hates how long it takes him and stupid it always makes him feel. He will. Not like he plans on ever telling McCallum. They don’t admit to anything as base as feelings. 

Amycus lets the silence stretch and allows his eyes to travel from Ashton’s face to the rows and rows of shelves. 

“You know,” Amycus says casually, making sure to keep his mouth in view as he cranes his head back and to the side, “there’s probably a book in here somewhere. Some Charm or Potion or-“

“No.” 

All the tension that leaked from Ashton earlier returns tenfold. He’s fractured granite in Amycus grip and there is suddenly a very real possibility of lasting damage. “No.”

Face crinkling in confusion Amycus twists his head back to look at his classmate. “What? There probably is, this place is-“

“Last time I checked, I was perfectly fucking fine with my life, Carrow.”

“But don’t you-“

“You’ve got your own goddamn ears. Stay the fuck away from mine.”

Amycus almost holds his hands up in surrender but he’s loathe to let Ashton go. If he pushes further, he’ll lose this. For reasons he refuses to look at let alone touch, he doesn’t want to lose this. “Fine, fine, point taken.”

Another long silence stretches between them, breaks. 

“So that’s it then?” Ashton hasn’t relaxed. “Last of your stupid questions about obvious things?” 

No. A thousand questions tumble across his tongue, vying to get out. For once he has the good sense to ignore most of them. 

“Does this mean you don’t know what I’ve said during sex?” Considering the amount of embarrassing things he’s said during sex this whole deaf thing could actually work in his favor. 

“Believe it or not, I’ve got better things to focus on than your lips.”

“Now that’s just rude, I have fucking fantastic lips.”

“When they’re not actually talking, sure.”

This, this grumpy bickering and backhanded compliments dressed up like insults, this gets both of them relaxing again. It’s familiar, worn in around the edges. Routine. 

“That’s an odd way to ask for a blowjob.” 

Ashton snorts. “Right because your standards are so high.” 

“You weren’t complaining about my standards when I fucked you in the Charms classroom last week.”

“Didn’t say mine were any better. What’s even worth saying during sex?”

“Instructions.” Not like Ashton had ever listened in the past, not like he ever could. “Which you never follow anyways—“

“Oh _geewiz_ I wonder why—“

“Your name,” Amycus continues as if Ashton hadn’t said a word, “Oaths, prayers, embarrassing shit.”

“You _pray_ during _sex_.”

“Your mouth is a religious experience.”

“Oh, who’s hunting for a blowjob now?”

“Your ass is fairly holy as well.”

“Hole puns, really?”

“What, the opportunity was right there, what do you expect me to do, just leave it hanging?”

Ashton groans and mutters something incomprehensible but just this side of fond. Amycus lets go of him as the other boy rolls off. He gets a punch to the side for his bad jokes and crude humor and the punch isn’t even checked. They never check their punches. Not when aimed at each other. 

They’ll be okay, Amycus knows as Ashton pulls him up only to shove him unceremoniously against a bookshelf. They’ll be okay, because Ashton’s covering Amycus’s mouth with his own, and maybe he can’t hear the laughter tumbling from Am’s lips, but he can feel it shaking in his chest where they’re pushed together. They’ll be okay, because there’s a leg forcing itself between Amycus’s legs, and this is what they do, what they have always done. They’ll be okay. There are teeth on his lips and finger nails leaving scores down his back and he’s already muttering a half-broken litany onto Ashton’s lips and,

They’ll be okay.


End file.
